


Johnstrade Prompts

by Iolre



Series: The Minor Key Prompts [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to more, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A variety of Johnstrade prompts from my minor pairings tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Be More Than Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the prompt: johnstrade. lestrade and john decide to watch a football game together, just as mates...but it eventually devolves into something more. (silly argument leading to heated snogging perhaps?)
> 
> You can send me more prompts [here!](http://minorsherlockprompts.tumblr.com)

Later, when questioned, John wouldn’t be able to explain how it happened. One moment they were arguing heatedly about whether or not the rugby player was a sissy, and the next Greg had launched himself at John and was in his lap, kissing him fiercely. John parted his lips automatically for Greg’s tongue, his soft little whimpers being caught by Greg’s mouth. His mouth was warm against John’s, tongue skillful against his, and they dueled for control of the kiss.

The match was forgotten as John tugged Greg’s shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, the hand that wasn’t cupping Greg’s head making itself busy trying to undo the fly of his jeans and get at his erection. “Oh, bloody hell,” John growled, breaking the kiss to undo Greg’s trousers and push them down. At the same time Greg’s fingers were pulling out John’s shirt, sticking his hand down John’s trousers to free his cock.

John hissed as Greg took their cocks in his his hand, precome making the thrusts slippery as they rocked against each other. The military doctor latched his lips to the soft, warm skin of Greg’s neck and sucked furiously, alternating the suction with sloppy kisses The DI would have to wear a scarf tomorrow (and for days after) to cover up the purple blotches. Greg moaned on top of him, his hand tightening around their erections and increasing the friction. “God, Greg,” John panted, shuddering as the heat gathered in his belly.

“Fuck, John, Jo -” Greg gasped out his name, sending arousal crashing through John’s body. The detective inspector shuddered, his thrusts degenerating into sloppy territory as his cock pulsed against the shorter man’s. John crashed over the edge after him, nearly biting Greg’s neck as his fingers dug into the other man’s shoulders. Warm fluid splashed onto his stomach, ruining his shirt. Post-orgasmic and a bit dazed, John grimaced. He knew it was just a matter of time before the come would become dry and sticky. Although being covered in semen sounded attractive, in reality it wasn’t very sexy.

The two men stayed like that until their breathing returned to normal, avoiding eye contact. It was a lot more awkward than John had anticipated, not that he had exactly anticipated having sex with Greg in the first place.

“We should do this more often,” Greg murmured, his body sagging against John, his forehead tucked into the crook of John’s shoulder.

John hummed his agreement. “Shower?”

Greg grabbed John’s hand and practically dragged him to the bathroom.


	2. I'll Look After You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: Johnstrade prompt? Greg's been pulling long hours, and John goes in to convince him that he needs to take a break. Exhausted Greg and concerned John, please. :3

John knocked on the door to Greg’s office, and then pushed it open, not waiting for an answer. Greg was dozing lightly in his chair, fingers still on the keyboard as if he had fallen asleep in the midst of typing up some paperwork. John grimaced, although he couldn’t admit that he was surprised. Greg worked as hard if not harder than Sherlock at times, and rarely allowed himself to take a break.

Greg hadn’t been home in three days, not even for a shower, which meant he had likely stayed at work and showered there. It also meant he had not eaten a full meal - a proper meal - that same amount of time, and John doubted he had slept more than an hour or two snatched here or there. “Hello,” John murmured, stepping around the desk to gently shake the DI awake.

It worked immediately, for Greg’s eyes flew open and he blinked, forcing himself back to awareness. “Yes, how can - oh, John.” Greg turned towards his mug and picked it up, knocking back the remnants of the cold coffee with a grimace. “Did you need something?” His face turned hopeful. “Sherlock decide the Stridor case worth looking into?”

John stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. I came looking for the one who hasn’t been home in three days.”

Greg glanced at the clock and then back at John. “Ah, right. Well, I’ll be home tonight. Gotta wrap this case up, you know the drill.”

“Greg.” John’s tone was firm, and Greg wilted just a bit. “I talked to Sally, and you’re released for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Greg snapped. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t fair that John didn’t move, used to Greg’s tired outbursts as he was. He understood what constant work on little sleep did to a person. Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“Let’s get you home,” John said simply, grabbing Greg’s jacket off of the coat rack and walking it over to him. Greg put it on without a word, and the two left the Yard, walking shoulder to shoulder. They bumped into each other occasionally, agreeably, before John flagged down a cabbie and the two slid inside, John giving Greg’s address.

Once they were to Greg’s, John ushered Greg inside, leaving him to settle in while he made tea. Although he still lived primarily with Sherlock, he spent enough time at Greg’s flat to know when the DI hadn’t been home. After three days with no signs of life, he had been worried enough to drop by the Yard. Sally had seen him and informed him that Greg was asleep in his office.

“Here.” John handed Greg a mug of tea and sat on the sofa next to him. Greg had taken off his jacket and emptied his pockets before nearly tipping over onto the couch, and John was half-worried it had been a bad idea to entrust him with the tea for Greg was starting to doze off already. A few more sips and it was probable that he would be completely asleep.

Once John finished his tea, he took the half-empty mug from the mostly-asleep Greg and sat them both on the coffee table, resolving to clean them up later. “Up you go,” he ordered softly, tugging lightly on Greg until he stood, blinking at John. He led Greg to the bedroom carefully, ensuring that the sleepy man didn’t run into the walls or sharp edges of the various cabinets and cupboards. Not that there were many, but Greg could be surprisingly clumsy when he was sleepy.

Greg must have been awake enough to realize what the bed was, for he stripped off his shirt and started on the fly of his trousers. John quickly stripped himself down to his pants, tossing the discarded clothes off to the side. He scrambled underneath the duvet, holding it up so Greg could slide underneath. Last time Greg had fallen asleep on top, and woke John up in the middle of the night because he had been ‘freezing his bloody balls off’. It wasn’t John’s fault that Greg had refused to go underneath when John had tried to move him.

This time, however, Greg slid underneath the duvet without prompting, an arm snaking around John and pulling him back against him, Greg’s chest to John’s back. It was maybe a minute before John could feel Greg’s breathing even out, feel him fall asleep. Marching him out of the Yard like that was only a temporary solution, but it would recharge Greg enough that he could stand on his own two feet until the case was solved. Someone had to be invested in his welfare, after all. John shifted slightly closer, his arm over Greg’s, and allowed himself to fall asleep.


	3. I Wish It Was Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh how about some angst?? How about the reason that Lestrade looks so utterly bummed out at the wedding be because he had an unrequited love for John (which he knew would never be returned but this is a sobering slap anyways). I do love some Johnstrade angst

Greg had gotten used to being second best, to never being good enough. He sat at the table, a champagne glass in his hand, and half paid attention as Sherlock gave his speech. His eyes were on John as Sherlock spoke. He watched as John glanced between Sherlock (his best man) and his wife, the two people he loved most in the world. Greg wasn’t one of them.

He had expected it, really. It wasn’t a surprise. The moment he had seen John with Sherlock Greg had known that John was never within his grasp. Their easy chemistry, the way John moved around Sherlock like the sun - Greg was certain that they were dating. Then Sherlock had died, and John had moved on, and selfishly, part of Greg had hoped it was his chance. The more practical side of him had known it would never happen.

Then Mary had appeared, and John had fallen in love. It had happened quickly. One moment John had been meeting him once a month for pints, just to get out of the flat - then John had stopped returning his texts and had practically disappeared off the face of the Earth. They crossed paths, once, when Greg was out his way for a case. John had apologized, said he’d been busy. Greg had put on his best smile and told John not to worry about it. It was nothing, really. Greg always knew where he stood.

He drank the champagne in one go, and took Molly’s when she offered it to him. Maybe if he drank enough, he could forget that he was at John’s wedding, watching the person he loved marry someone else. He didn’t even know why he had come. Some stupid sense of duty, probably. Virtue. Obligation. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. All he wanted to do was go home and get away from it all.

Then Sherlock had gone and solved a bloody case during the middle of John’s wedding and made fun of Greg to boot. A dwarf had been a stupid answer, Greg had known that the moment it left his mouth, but his brain was too foggy from the champagne to think clearly. At least Sherlock had held back in his ridicule, just a little. Maybe he had known something was wrong. Greg doubted it, but the thought did make him feel better.

He had made the arrest, called Sally, and had her take the Mayfly Man in. She had taken one look at him and agreed without a fight. He had gone back into the reception, a smile plastered on his face. It was hard, listening to Sherlock give his speech. Hearing that Mary - Mary was pregnant. Greg swallowed hard. His chest felt too tight. Like he was going to lose control. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Reluctantly Greg joined the crowd to watch the first dance. Watching John dance with Mary was like digging a knife into his heart, bit by bit. Then he saw Sherlock join them, saw the three of them together, and it felt like the knife had twisted. How he wished it was him up there, next to John. Holding John’s hand, seeing his brilliant smile. Greg wished he had been able to kiss him, just once. Anything was better than standing there and watching John marry someone else.

Greg didn’t remember much of the rest of the reception. He drank some more champagne, even danced a bit, although he didn’t remember who he danced with. Molly nearly stepped on his foot - she was tipsy and giggly, Mrs. Hudson next to her and keeping her upright. Greg offered her a smile, tried to be amused, but it did not reach his eyes. He wanted to go home. As soon as the reception seemed to be dying down and no one was paying attention to him, he slipped out the side doors. He stopped, his attention drawn by the lone figure striding down the cobble stones. Sherlock. Apparently Greg wasn’t the only one hurting tonight.

He waited until Sherlock was out of sight before he signaled for a taxi to take him home.


End file.
